


Sweetness

by PrincessTreacle



Series: The Grease Stains Universe [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: All Human, Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lemons, Mc Club, Smut, carlesme, death of a child, explicit - Freeform, part one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29238705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessTreacle/pseuds/PrincessTreacle
Summary: To her brother she’s a nagging harpy. To his lackeys she’s the untouchable older sister. To him, she’s his sweetness. Part one in the Grease Stains universe.
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen
Series: The Grease Stains Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146983
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Sweetness

Sweetness

**WARNING: Death of a child is mentioned.**

**Thank you to Frannie for pre-reading.**

**Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.**

"All I'm saying is it would have been nice for you tell me." She was resisting the urge to punch her brother's smug face in… or slam it against the desk and mess up his nose. Bella would probably have her ass for that though.

"I don't have to tell you anything, Es—I'm the president of the club and what I say goes."

"I know that." She said her words slowly, blood boiling through her veins. "But it would have been common fucking courtesy to tell me you were joining with the Wolves."

His jaw twitched. No one spoke to him like that… except her.

"I don't owe you anything and would appreciate it if you didn't turn into a nagging harpy!" His jaw was clenched and Esme knew she was seconds away from seeing the muscle in his forehead jump with anger.

"Oh, get off your throne!" she shouted. "The only reason you have a club to run is because I kept everything going whilst you stuck your dick into every and any available hole and snorted and smoked whatever was handed to you! If it where up to you, Nessie would have been taken into care and you would have been found face down in a ditch! I'm not asking for control. I'm not asking for you to make a fucking blood oath! I'm asking for you tell me what you're going to do so I get at least some kind of warning and I don't walk into my clubhouse and see the alleged 'enemy' drinking my whisky!" She was breathing hard and her chest was heaving. "You know what, fuck you, Edward." She was done.

Esme grabbed her jacket and pivoted on her heel, stomping out of his office and through the repair shop. She pulled her handbag from the side and opened it, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it, sicking the end in her mouth like it was the last thing keeping her sane (it was).

Rose sidled up to her with some keys dangling from her hand. "Get out of here. I'll deal with that twat."

"Thanks," Esme said, dragging on the cigarette before taking the keys and jumping into her Camaro.

She started the engine, threw the car into park and left so quickly that the gravel underneath it churned up.

* * *

Edward watched his sister go from his office and ran a hand through his hair before pouring himself some whisky (it was the drink of choice in their family). The door to his office opened and revealed Rose stood there looking less than pleased.

"Not now," he told her harshly.

"What's the date today?" she simply asked him.

"What?"

"What's the date?" she asked again.

"Uh, the seventeenth of April?" It came out like a question.

"Yep." She gave him a few seconds. "And you can't think of why that would have any significance?" She crossed her arms over her ample chest and rested against his open door.

"No—stop talking in riddles, Rose." He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished that Bella was here to deal with all this shit.

"It's the seventeenth of April… Elijah's birthday."

Edward's green eyes met hers and panic flooded through his body. "Shit."

"Yep."

"Fuck. Shitting fuck!"

"You really are a dick, Edward," Rose said, turning and leaving his office. He may be stressed but that was no reason to be horrible to Esme. Not after everything she had done for him after their parents had died. Especially not today of all days.

* * *

Esme drove until she got to Port Angeles. She wanted hard liquor and an even harder cock. But she didn't want to go anywhere where her brother or his lackeys could find her. She wanted privacy.

A quick Google search gave her just that.

Ten minutes later, she pulled up outside Olympiads.

The exterior was mostly brick and wood with the name of the bar in bright letters above the door. It didn't look too bad but right now she didn't care.

Esme threw her car into park, grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and walked inside.

The first thing she noticed was just how busy the bar was. Waitresses went back and forth, their trays full of drinks and there was barely any room to move. It suited her just fine. She could get lost in the crowd.

Esme managed to find her way to the bar and when she looked up to get the attention of the bartender, her whole body flushed with heat. Fuck. He was handsome. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes and a smile that made panties drop. He was well-muscled but not overly and when his arm moved, she swore she saw some dark ink on his skin. Shit. She did love a bit of ink on a man.

She wasn't as inked up as Rose but she had her own. To the right of her rib cage, curling towards her breast she had a cluster of purple flowers and on her left thigh, she had some black and white vines. She'd gotten both when she was younger and neither held any significant meaning. It was the ink on her right wrist that was the most precious to her; a semi-colon with a simple heart underneath that had 'Elijah' written in it in swirling calligraphy followed by two dates. That was her most important tattoo. It was the one she looked at the most often, the one she touched every night before bed and every morning when she woke up.

Her eyes met the bartender's and he held up a single finger, letting her know he'd be with her shortly. She licked her lips and took him in. He was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves with a dark t-shirt underneath it. He had tight fighting blue jeans with black boots on his feet. There was a leather cuff on his wrist and as her eyes made their way down to his hands, she felt a pang of disappointment. On his left ring finger, sat a large silver ring. Just her luck.

Hard liquor would have to do by itself tonight. No one else in here had caught her eye.

The bartender came over and smiled at her. "What can I get you, honey?"

"Honey?" Esme was sure that her eyebrows hit her hairline.

"Yeah, honey—you look sweet."

"I'm anything but sweet."

He grinned at her. "What can I get you, Sweetness?" he asked again.

She ignored the last part of his comment, but now she was here, Esme didn't know. "Surprise me."

He studied her for a moment. "You got it," he finally said, throwing her a wink before he turned his back to her and started on her drink.

She watched him and even though she had no right to, she desired him. His arms were thick and steady, and she imagined what they would feel like wrapped around her. His smile was bright and contagious, and she wanted it directed at her. And his lips, well the sooner she stopped thinking about them, the better.

She had been so caught up in her lustful thoughts that she didn't see him come back her way and slide a glass towards her on a napkin. She took a sip and then looked at him.

"An Old Fashioned? That's what you surprised me with?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "You seem like the kind of girl that would appreciate it."

"I'm not a girl," she muttered.

His eyes went down her body and back to her face. "Oh, I can see that."

Fuck. Her throat went dry and her mouth parted, tongue darting out to lick her lips as his eyes stayed on her face.

They were pulled out of their reverie by someone shouting.

"Doc!" He immediately turned his head to see a group of males, clearly drunk. "We're heading out now! See you later!"

He gave them a friendly wave before turning his attention back to Esme, the customers waiting at the bar seemingly forgotten.

"Doc? Is that your name?"

He chuckled. "No, it's a nickname."

"Like Sweetness?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, like Sweetness. My name's Carlisle."

"How the hell do you get 'Doc' from Carlisle?"

"Apparently, I fix people."

She 'hmmed' and took another sip of her drink.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

She paused. "Esme."

"Well, Esme, it's very nice to meet you." He held his large hand out and Esme hesitated for a second before taking it in hers. It was warm and smooth, fitting around hers almost perfectly.

"Doc! Stop flirting! Get over here and help me," a disgruntled voice called. Sadly, Carlisle dropped Esme's hand and gave her a wink.

"Shout if you need anything," he told her, turning away and going to help his large co-worker.

Disappointment curled through Esme and she fought to tamper it down. He was taken. The ring on his finger said so. And besides, she didn't do married men. _Not after last time._

* * *

Two hours later and she was still sat in the same place with a fresh drink, but it was untouched. Her fingers traced over the black ink on her wrist.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Carlisle asked as he leant against the bar from the other side, a towel tucked into his jeans and his arms folded across his chest, looking like sex on a stick.

"I'm wondering why life is so unfair."

"That's a big question." His voice was soft and Esme realised that the hustle and bustle had died down.

"It's a big day. It's my son's birthday."

"How old is he?"

"He would have been eight."

She knew Carlisle heard her. Understood what she was saying. "I'm sorry—" he began to say, but she stopped him.

"Don't apologise." People always went straight to 'I'm sorry'; like it would make any difference. Like it would change what happened. She didn't want their sorrow.

"I'm not apologising for what happened. I'm apologising for that fact that you're sat here alone when you should be with someone."

His words caught her off guard and she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Thank you," she told him quietly.

"Do you want to talk about him?"

"There's not much to say. He was only three days old when he…" She didn't finish the sentence.

"I bet you remember everything about him though." It was a statement. And it was true. She remembered the way his brown hair was the softest thing she had ever touched. She remembered the way his blue eyes would flutter as he drifted in and out of consciousness. She remembered the way his grip on her finger had slackened as he got weaker.

"I do." Feeling uncomfortable with the attention being on her, she changed the tone of the conversation. "Do you have kids?"

"Nope, just my bar."

"It's your bar?"

"Yep, brought it when it was falling down and you needed a hard hat to enter. I built it from the ground up and I'm damn pleased with myself."

"You should be." Running a business was difficult. Starting from scratch? That was ball breakingly hard. "It's nice."

"Nice? I don't know if nice is what I was going for but I'll take it as a compliment."

"Hold onto it; I don't give them out very often," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips a Carlisle smiled back at her.

"So, is that why you picked my bar? Because it's nice?"

Esme took a sip of her drink. "I needed somewhere my brother didn't have any… associates."

"He's protective?" Carlisle surmised.

"He can be. When he's not being an ass."

Carlisle pointed at himself. "I'm an only child so I don't know anything about siblings."

"You're not missing much." That wasn't strictly too. Edward was great when he wanted to be and Nessie was her adorable little sister. They'd had a wonderful childhood. It was just when they were teenagers it all went to shit.

A comfortable silence developed between them until Carlisle broke it.

"How long are you planning on staying here?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" She leant on the bar and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"The complete opposite," he told her, his voice going down slightly. "I want to know how long I have to wait before I tell you I want to fuck you."

His words caught her off guard and Esme stared at him. "What?"

He leaned in. "I've been hard since the moment you and that beautiful ass walked in."

Esme shook off the shock she felt and in a bold move, she peered over the bar and saw that he was indeed, sporting what looked to be a very impressive erection.

When she raised her head to look at his eyes she saw that they were sparkling with desire.

"I'm flattered but I think your wife might be a bit pissed."

Carlisle stared at her, the desire in his eyes being replaced by confusion as his eyebrows pulled together. "Wife? I'm not married."

"Well, the ring on your left hand says otherwise."

Her words must have switched something on his brain and he chuckled and took the ring off, handing it to her. "It's not a wedding ring. It's a signet ring with my family's crest on it. I wear in that finger because… I don't know, I just always have."

Esme held the silver ring in hand, noting its weight. A lion sat in the middle of the crest with three clovers underneath it and what appeared to be a hand above the lion. Relief coursed through her. Then desire. But she needed to check.

"So you're single?"

He gave her a grin. "Famously so."

"Good." Esme handed him the ring and he put it back on his finger. "I believe you were saying something about being hard for me?"

He clicked his tongue and then reached up, ringing a bell that was behind the bar. "Everyone get out!" he shouted. "Except you," he said to Esme. "Don't you dare move."

His actions and his words made a giggle bubble up in her throat as she watched him shoo the few patrons that were in finishing their drinks away and even chuck a coat at his bartender and promptly slam the door in his face.

He turned to look at Esme but she was already halfway across the room, sexual tension simmering between them. His arms went around her waist and she pressed her body to his, feeling the hard muscles that he kept concealed all night.

"I can't believe you thought I was married," he said quietly, just seconds before her lips captured his.

Esme moaned as his soft lips opened, his tongue tracing the seam of hers. His hard body was pressed firmly against her chest and hips as she tugged on his hair with one hand and felt the muscles in his back with the other.

"So sweet," he groaned, pulling away to lick at her neck.

In a matter of seconds, he found the point that was her weakness. The point that made her moan and whimper. It was just above her collarbone. The skin was extra sensitive and when his tongue flicked across it, she clutched at him as if he were the only thing preventing her from floating away.

She felt his smirk against her skin and then his hands were travelling down her back to her ass where he squeezed it once before going lower and grasping her thighs. His hands were large and when he lifted her into the air, she felt completely safe. He encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist as he walked them out of the bar.

"I live upstairs," he told her, his voice hindered by her skin on his lips.

Esme had no clue how he managed to navigate the stairs with her in his arms. She was bucking against him, pulling at his shirt and moaning in his ear, desperate for more. She didn't even take in his apartment when they got there, she just knew one moment they were downstairs in the bar and the next she was being laid on a bed, Carlisle's hard weight landing on top of her.

"I want you so badly," he breathed, hips jutting into hers as he pinned her to the bed.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed the plaid shirt from them, his t-shirt following shortly afterwards until he was just left in his jeans. His muscled body free for her eyes to peruse. His left arm was covered in black stars from his shoulder down to his forearm—that had been the ink she'd gotten a glimpse at earlier—and just above his jeans, Esme could make out two more stars, one either side of his hips.

Carlisle decided it was his turn then as he quickly shed her of all her clothes bar her panties, groaning in delight when he saw her pale skin.

He took a berry nipple in his mouth, his large hand coming to grasp and pinch at the creamy flesh of her other breast.

"Oh!" Pleasure flowed through her body. Her hips undulated into the mattress and then into him as she gripped the bedsheets.

"I want to taste you," he whispered against her. "I bet you taste sweet." From his position at her chest, he glanced up at her, his eyes teasing.

"Yes," she nodded. "Yes."

He kissed down her rib cage, his tongue swirling over the purple ink before he travelled lower. He knelt on the floor at the end of the bed and in a move that could only be described as dominance, he pulled grasped her ankles and pulled her to him.

Esme's heart pounded in her chest as a wave of pure heat cascaded down on her. Her thighs closed for only seconds before Carlisle was pulling them open and peeling her damp underwear away from her body.

His hungry eyes took her in. The delicate triangle she kept neatly trimmed. Her swollen folds, her clit peeking out and begging to be played with.

"Fuck, that's a beautiful sight," he murmured, eyes transfixed.

He leaned forward, placing one of her legs over his shoulder as he pushed the other one out to the side, exposing her feminine centre.

It was too much. "Please," she begged. "Please, Carlisle."

"What do you want, Sweetness? Tell me." His voice was rough… demanding… dominating.

"Taste me," she whimpered. "Please."

He leaned in, his lips softly caressing her as he placed a light kiss to her slit. When he withdrew, Esme tensed. But he came back, using his tongue this time to lick up one side of clit and then the other.

"Mmm," she breathed, her entire body tingling with anticipation.

He kissed her again, his tongue probing her puffy lips, tasting the moisture that was rapidly gathering between her thighs.

"So fucking sweet," he ground out before sucked her clit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the nub.

Esme's body arched and when Carlisle grasped her thighs, stopping them from moving, she lost it. Her head went back into the pillows on the bed and her fingers grasped the sheets beneath her. Her eyes closed so tightly she saw stars and her legs shook.

"Carlisle!" she cried when he didn't stop, his tongue probing lower.

He pulled away and slipped a finger inside her. "I want you to come again," he told her, his eyes on her body as she writhed under his touch. "I want you completely drenched when I fuck you." He slipped another finger and curled them upwards, hitting that spot that sent Esme into the stratosphere, her second orgasm coming much quicker than she had ever anticipated.

Her breath left her lungs and her mouth opened, a silent scream on her lips as her thighs became soaked with her own juices.

Carlisle wasted no time. He flipped her over, giving her ass a quick slap before he pulled a pillow from the floor and used it to prop her hips her.

Esme turned her head slightly and watched with hooded lids as he dropped his jeans and underwear to the floor, moving to the side of the bed to grab a condom from the drawer.

Fuck. He was hung. It was long, thick, and oh so hard. She eyed the appendage hungrily.

"Later," he told her, his hand fisting around the flesh. "You can taste me later."

He rolled the condom on and then stood behind her, pulling her hips back until she felt the tip of his erection brushing her ass.

"Sweetness, if you don't want this, you need to tell me now," he said. Esme turned and saw that despite his state of arousal, he was still concerned for her, still wanted to know that she wanted this.

At first, Esme didn't use words to answer him. She dropped herself lower, causing her ass to go higher and she pressed back into him. "I want this."

"Thank fuck," he hissed. One hand went to her hip as the other slipped in between them, guiding his large cock into her weeping opening.

He slipped inside easily, her previous orgasms having more than prepared her body for him.

They let out collective groans of pleasure.

"Yes," Esme moaned as Carlisle moved his hand to grasp her other hip.

He set a brutal pace. It was deep and hard and Esme was lost.

Her head was buried in the mattress, her hands gripping the sheets. Waves of pleasure flooded through her, every inch of her body coming alive for what felt like the first time in many years. Her nipples tingled and she delighted in hearing the sound of their skin slapping together.

Carlisle cursed and groaned and when her pussy milked his cock, he jerked her upwards. One hand went between her legs, pressing down on her clit as the other grasped at her breast, rolling a stiff peak between his fingers. His lips went to he ear and his hot breath fanned over the skin, stoking the already growing flames in her stomach.

"So good, Sweetness," he grunted. "So fucking good."

His lips found that place. The one above her collarbone and he sucked her skin into his mouth. And then he bit down. And Esme flew.

She flew off the precipice and into the abyss again, her body clenching around Carlisle as she dragged him with her. His hips thrust jerkily against her and he cried out, her name a devotion on his lips.

Together they panted, their bodies supporting one another.

Slowly, Carlisle eased Esme down on the bed, brushing her hair from her face before he went into what she assumed was the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

He got into bed beside her and pulled the covers up over them.

"I'm glad you're not asking me to leave," she told him sleepily, a moment of vulnerability peeking out from her usually tough exterior.

He kissed her temple. "After that? I think I want to keep you here forever."

That sounded nice to Esme. In fact, it sounded perfect. She could forget about the fact that her brother was an absolute twat. She could forget about the club and everything that was waiting for her when she got back. She could forget about Aro Volturi and the threat he posed. She could pretend that she was Carlisle's and she could be normal. She could pretend her life was easy.

Carlisle laid on his back next to her whilst she stayed on her side, her back to him. Not because she was trying to ignore him but simply because she couldn't move. She was sated but incredibly tired. He reached a hand out and rested in on her ass causing a smile forming on her face.

"I'll get us breakfast tomorrow," Carlisle said quietly. "There's a bakery down the road that does these amazing bagels and coffee."

"M-hm sounds nice," Esme told him, enjoying his voice.

"Sleep well, Esme," he whispered.

"You too," she mumbled.

And as she always did, her fingers touched the black heart on her wrist and she wished her son a goodnight.

_Goodnight, Elijah_


End file.
